


Waiting All My Life

by AraSigyrn



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:52:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/AraSigyrn
Summary: Connor's always known his soulmate was out there somewhere, but the path of true love never runs smooth.





	Waiting All My Life

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to Deannawol for the beta.

8.7% of the human population has a soulmark; Connor learns this from a segment that shows on TV after Sidney Crosby wins the Stanley Cup for the first time. There's some family friend who jokes about how Crosby was all superstitious about his mark before he learned the statistics and just went for it.

Connor's had his mark as long as he can remember, a circular pattern in bright colors looping around his wrist. His mom buys his first wrist-guard and his first set of skates on the same day. Connor wears it because he's always worn it. He's not ashamed of his mark.

Honestly? Connor kinda loves his mark. Hockey is the biggest love of his life but Connor's realistic about it; he's never going to be a Crosby or Ovechkin, anything he achieves is through stubbornness and hours of practice, practice, practice. He's not super charismatic or magnetic either. Most of his team-mates like him in a general 'oh, hey' sort of way but he doesn't draw in crowds of people.

It's kinda nice to know that there's someone out there who's going to love him enough to want him around forever. Connor never says that aloud but it's something he thinks about a lot when he's lying in his billet bed, miles from his family.

Connor doesn't sign up to any of the dodgy online sites that promise to find a match, even before his agent tells him not to. He's focused on his hockey right now and his soulmate is going to find him in the end. Connor can wait.

He gets drafted by the Leafs, which is so incredible that Connor doesn't think he stops smiling for a whole week. He gets sent down to the Marlies almost immediately but he doesn't really mind. Well, he does mind but everyone is talking about how the Leafs are getting ready to tank, so Connor takes his time on the Marlies as the proving ground that management intends it to be.

He's not the only one that they're keeping down and Connor gets to know the other guys. The Marlies romp through the AHL while the Leafs sink to the bottom of the league. Connor gets a call up, going on the ice against the Anaheim Ducks for his first real taste of the show. He scores his first goal and it's crazy, all his teammates piling in and screaming like it's won them the game (actually, Naz's OT goal does) and Connor tumbles back onto the bench, so thrilled that he barely sleeps.

The season ends and Connor goes back to training his butt off. He's had a taste of the show and he wants more. He doesn't know when his mark changes, only that he notices it one day after a hard workout. He's taken off his wristband to shower because it looks like it's about to split.

Connor's mark is almost glowing, all the colors vivid and sharper than he's ever seen them. He kinda shorts out, just staring at it. He can feel the tingle when he touches it and he shivers a little. It's his first taste of vodka, that first second when his skates cut into fresh ice and the second that the puck hits the back of the net.

It's scary. Super exciting but scary. Connor'd always wanted to meet his soulmate but he'd always imagined that he'd meet them after he'd made the show, when hockey wasn't eating up all his time. Hell, Connor doesn't even know who his soulmate is! He doesn't need to tell his agent yet, or the team and he sorta doesn't want to, he wants the time to find his soulmate before he lets other people in.

Connor actually meets his soulmate a month out of camp, he's training with Bozie and a few of the guys who live in Toronto year round and Babs comes in to introduce the new goalie. He's huge. He has a nice smile. He's kinda quiet.

And he's Connor's soulmate.

Connor feels the zing when Andersen ("Freddie. Please.") takes his hand and it feels like taking a full body check. Connor's whole mind goes blank. He gets elbowed aside by JVR and reality speeds back up. Connor's still kinda having trouble breathing when Bozie shakes Freddie's hand and Freddie's wrist protector shows.

"Ah-ha," Bozie crows. "Another of the happy fated lot!"

Freddie's expression doesn't change so much as it kind of just...freezes. It's like the temperature drops ten degrees. Even Leo goes quiet and Freddie looks a lot bigger and a lot meaner than he did a second ago.

"No," Freddie says crisply. "I don't believe in soulmates."

"You don't believe in soulmates?" Bozie says, laughing a little like he thinks Freddie's joking.

"No," Freddie says, snarls.

There's a bit more talking. Connor doesn't bother to listen to it and Babcock takes Freddie away. Connor doesn't say anything. He goes to the bar with the boys afterwards and he must look okay because nobody says anything.

He gets home, locks the door and just sits on his sofa with his face in his hands for a while. Then he goes to bed because he still has to go training the next day. Connor doesn't remember if he dreams but he drinks like three cups of coffee on his way to the rink.

Hyms does pull him aside to ask if he's okay. "Hit the drinks a little harder last night there, Brownie?"

"I'm fine, just a summer cold or something," Connor says.

He finds out a bit more about Freddie Andersen, mostly from other players and a couple of guys who knew him in Anaheim. He's quiet, a good guy and he hates soulmates. That's seriously the order of things that everyone knows about Freddie Andersen. Mo talks to Freddie before he goes off to join Team Europe for Bettman's pet project.

Connor finds this out when Mo corners him after a cardio session to talk about soulmates.

"So you know Andersen's coming to play for us, right?" Mo starts. Connor pauses with his towel on his face. "I mean you _know_ that but you know that he's not really into the whole soulmate thing?"

"I heard," Connor says.

"So, I know you're not a douche about it or anything but could you, like, not talk about it around him?"

Connor says he'll be cool and Mo pats him on the shoulder and looks pleased. Connor showers and goes to ask if he can talk to the team doctor. Doctor Janet is about five years older than Connor's mom and kind of looks like a grandma. It makes things a little more embarrassing.

"Connor," she says like she's genuinely happy to see him. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to report a bond rejection," Connor says and feels his stomach curl up at the expression on her face.

Doctor Janet runs the tests and then sends Connor to sit in her office to wait for the results. Connor gets an icepack to put on his wrist where the mark is all puffy and red. He doesn't answer any questions about his bond partner, just kept his head down and held out his arm for the needle.

Doctor Janet comes back to her office with a folder under her arm and closes the door behind her firmly.

"All right, Connor," she says. "Let's have a chat, shall we?"

Doctor Janet is matter-of-fact and sticks to the rules; she's obliged to note Bond-Rejection-Syndrome in his chart but she doesn't need to know anything about his soulmate that he doesn't want to tell her. Mostly, Doctor Janet talks about the ramifications for his hockey; there are long-term implications for his health but that's not until a few years down the line.

"The biggest risk is injury," Doctor Janet tells him bluntly. "BRS has a major depressive effect on your healing. So we'd be looking at longer recovery times and increased risk of complications."

Connor bites his lip and she smiles. "Fortunately you're young and healthy and I know Coach doesn't want you getting yourself hurt. We'll be monitoring this closely so I'll need to see you at least every two weeks for blood tests."

"I can do that," Connor says. He can. He's a Toronto Maple Leaf. He's going to _be_ a Maple Leaf next season.

"I said that I wasn't going to ask about your potential mate," Doctor Janet says. Connor feels his shoulders hunch up. "And I'm not going to ask for details but you should be aware that, if you can, spending time with them will slow the onset of your syndrome."

"What?"

"Nothing romantic," Doctor Janet assures him. "But if you can spend time around them without fighting with them, essentially your instincts will still react as if the bond is viable."

"But it's not," Connor protests.

"I know, but proximity has been proven to delay the development of BRS by months or even years and I would be failing my duty of care if I didn't tell you about it."

"...I'll try," Connor says.

"Good," Doctor Janet moves on to a discussion of what she has to disclose to the League and to management. It isn't as serious as Connor'd thought because BRS isn't common in pro sports and most people only vaguely understand the implications.

Connor gets to go home, assured that his career isn't totally fucked. He stops to buy a bottle of the Irish whiskey his grandma likes and some diet-breaking Chinese takeout to soak it up. He gives himself the rest of the weekend to be drunk, maudlin and just...sad.

On Monday, he'll shower and shave and go down to play shinny with boys. Right now, Connor thinks he's allowed some wallowing.

He does order a new wristguard on Amazon that's got a five-year guarantee and three different fastenings to make absolutely sure it won't slip. He throws up three times, drinks all the booze he has in his apartment and doesn't eat as much as he should.

Connor doesn't really sleep on Sunday night; he hasn't been doing anything to wear himself out and he can't settle to sleep. He can't even focus on late-night TV so he sits on his sofa and stares out the window. He can see his reflection in the glass and he wonders what's wrong with him.

He's not hideous. He's not like a movie star or singer. His smile is goofy and stupid. He works out a lot so he's in good shape. He thinks he's a decent person. He doesn't pull shady shit like some older players do.

He gets up off the sofa at six, shuffles into the hottest shower he can stand for twenty minutes and switches his phone on before he reaches for his razor. His phone starts buzzing almost before he puts it down. Mostly it's just chit-chat in the Marlies chat but he's got a couple of messages from Hyms, Mo and Willy of all people.

Connor agrees to breakfast with Hyms and Willy and brushes his teeth before he goes out.

They're meeting in a cafe Connor's never seen before but that he's betting Willy picked. It's one of those cafes that's trying really hard not to be Starbucks and has gone all the way through to pretension. Hyms's already at the table which isn't surprising. What is a surprise is that Willy's yawning from the chair beside him.

"Morning," Connor calls and Hyms smiles at him.

"Hey, Brownie!"

Willy just blinks and waves kinda vaguely in Connor's direction. Connor waves back and puts his order in at the counter. The cafe isn't super busy which his head is definitely appreciating. He orders the biggest coffee they have and gets given a mug that might be bigger than his head.

"So, you're looking rough there, bud," Hyms says when Connor sits with them.

"Long weekend," Connor says with a shrug.

"Oh?"

"Last weekend before we start training for camp." Connor smiles at the waitress. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Willy yawns again. "Looking forward to seeing what Matthews has in the tank?"

That starts a discussion about the draft and new players and hockey in general. Connor can just put in his two cents between bites of his pancakes and the whole meal passes easily enough.

It's ...okay. Connor doesn't talk about his soulmate; they don't talk about soulmates at all and it's just a chat over pancakes. Connor does some actual grocery shopping on his way home and it's fine. He can breathe around the big hollow ache in his chest.

And, honestly, no matter what Doctor Janet says, Connor doesn't intend to get friendly with Freddie.

It just kinda happens. First, it's because Freddie gets hurt. Connor gets a Google Alert about it and thinks 'Wow, that sucks!' and gets on with his day. Freddie comes back to Toronto and it turns out that the bond-that-isn't is just strong enough that Connor can feel an echo of Freddie's pain and grumpiness from his own apartment.

So, when he sees Freddie watching training, Connor bumps his shoulder into Mo while they're waiting for a face-off and suggests the team go grab some lunch together. "Get to know our goalie, you know?"

Mo thinks it's an awesome idea and lovingly bullies everyone into coming. He's the first one out of the dressing room and Connor feels the grumpiness from Freddie lighten. Connor still isn't super charismatic but he asks Freddie about his impressions of Toronto and offers his services as a life-long native of the city.

Freddie nods and Connor doesn't really get anything from the fragmented sense of him so he figures Freddie's just being polite.

Then Connor gets a text two days later asking for café recommendations.

It's not a regular thing. Connor thinks it's mostly because Freddie's bored or genuinely wants to know something. But Connor always answers and he goes with Freddie to try out a few cafés.

It sucks because Connor thinks he would be handling the bond rejection stuff better if Freddie was a dick. Instead, Freddie is steady, stoic and secretly hilarious. He's really polite and he's nice. Once, when it's raining and Connor gets caught in it, Freddie sweet-talks the waitress into loaning him a towel to dry off.

Then Auston Matthews arrives. He and Freddie are old buddies and Connor is resigned to the fact that Matthews being in town means that Freddie isn't going to talk to Connor much. He's jealous, in the miserable inside way that he feels most of his feelings about Freddie, but Connor's not going to be a dick.

He puts his focus into earning his place on the team. It's always hard to read Babcock but Connor works hard, tries his very best and keeps his head down. He also gets re-introduced to Mitch Marner, courtesy of Stromer who wants to make sure someone is keeping an eye on him.

Connor thinks Matt Martin has that covered but it's not a problem to say hi or grab the occasional coffee. He's still got Hyms and Willy too, even if Kappy doesn't make it this year.

He's not expecting Freddie to make coffee a group thing. Freddie reaches out to him first which is also unexpected. That's just because Connor's the kind of guy who actually gets his team-mates' numbers so he can round up the rookies. It's being smart and Freddie's worst enemy couldn't call him stupid.

Connor gets Matthews as his road-roomie. Auston becomes Matts almost immediately and turns out to be pretty cool. Connor gets to see what being a superstar is like and it sucks. The press keep asking the same questions and it's like they think he's stupid. Connor chirps him a little but mostly gives him space.

Freddie comes over a lot and Connor figures that he's third-wheeling, so he gets proper headphones and some games for his phone. Matts never says anything but he pats Connor's shin with his stick the next day which is probably a 'thank you'.

It kind of goes like that; Freddie and Connor aren't friends but they're buds. The bond, or not-bond, persists and it's never anything precise. Connor thinks it'd be too invasive if he could actually hear details. It's nothing like that. Really it's just the sort of thing that Connor can tell by looking at any of the boys - Freddie's just more stoic.

And it's not like Connor's doing anything for Freddie than he'd do for any other team-mate. When he knows Freddie's tired, he'll pick up an extra coffee. When Freddie's done talking, Connor'll just sit with him and watch videos on his phone. When Freddie gets frustrated, Connor'll stay back to help him practice.

When Freddie calls the whole damn team out, Connor's hurt but he's not surprised. Freddie's rage crackles like a looming thunderstorm and Connor flinches when he gets too close and the not-bond sparks with Freddie's fury. He pulls back a little and kinda waits for Freddie to blow up at him.

Instead, Freddie comes looking for him after about a week after practice and they get a coffee. Freddie doesn't apologize or anything but he feels much quieter and a little sour loneliness so Connor keeps the conversation focused on little things. Freddie does smile a little by the time the check comes and he even pays the whole thing.

The season is a roller-coaster. They're winning! Then they're losing. Then they're winning again. It's incredible and frustrating because Connor can feel it, the way they're _almost_ clicking. The ACC comes alive, the fans start getting louder and Connor sees more and more jerseys on the streets.

It's all frantic and exhausting. Connor comes home every night and just falls into bed. Doctor Janet tells him to add more vitamin C to his diet after the bye week. The team is ping-ponging into the playoff picture until Connor's sure the whole locker room knows every possible permutation of ways in which they could qualify.

The game against the Pens is wild. The Leafs are clawing for the playoff spot while the Pens are playing like they're in the finals. Connor screams himself hoarse when they win and Naz nearly breaks one of his ribs hugging him. They pour back into the locker room, cheering and Babs is smiling when he tells them to take the night.

Connor's still smiling that night in the bar. He's exhausted but giddy with excitement. The lights on the dance floor are kinda floating and he can see Willy and Mitch bouncing around. Connor stays in the booth, propped up against JVR, just soaking up how much the vets are glowing with achievement.

He winds up leaning into Freddie when the song changes and everyone comes back to the table. Freddie's just barely smiling but his happiness is a warm glow in the back of Connor's mind.

The playoffs are a rush of frantic play and excitement. They go out to the Capitals and it's crushing.

Connor goes home, cries a bit and spends a week at the beach with Stromer, Marns and a couple of the boys. He comes back red and hungover and starts into off-season training and bulking up the kilos that he lost.

He doesn't talk to Freddie outside of the group chat. It hurts but it's probably for the best. Doctor Janet and the team's medical staff have him in for a series of stress tests in late July. Connor runs about a hundred kilometers on the treadmill while they hook up different machines and frown at the results.

"You're all clear," Doctor Janet tells him. "No sign of secondary complications or symptom progression. If you didn't have a high WBC, I wouldn't know there was anything wrong."

"That's good, right?" Connor asks.

"Oh yes," she looks at her tablet. "The big worry is if you're injured. Typically Bond Rejection progresses slowly but any severe trauma...well, keep dodging those hits and you'll be fine."

"Thanks, doc," Connor hops off the examination table and goes home.

Connor works hard in the off-season but as always, camp kicks his ass. It's awesome to see all the boys back; Bozie has a million adorable kid pictures, Patty's wife sends in freshly baked cookies and everyone's back and hungry to prove last year wasn't a fluke.

Connor doesn't stay up the whole night before camp worrying about how he's going to react to seeing Freddie again but he doesn't get to bed early either. He's still half-asleep when he shuffles into the dressing room the next morning.

"Brownie!"

Connor gets halfway turned around before Freddie practically sweeps him off his feet. Connor's face gets squished against Freddie's chest and he can confirm Freddie's been bulking up this off-season too. Then his brain kicks in and he hugs Freddie back.

"Fuck, man, how much did you lift this summer!"

Freddie laughs and squeezes him tight enough that he actually lifts Connor off his feet. Connor squeaks and feels the rush of blood to his face. He's kinda glad Freddie doesn't let go immediately because he's not sure that his knees would hold.

Then Matts comes in and Freddie lets go and real life happens. Connor says hi and everyone starts changing and there's the usual chirruping about what people put on their instas over the summer. Connor smiles and listens and doesn't really say anything about his summer.

He doesn't realize anything has changed until it's the morning of their first game and there's a cup of coffee in his stall. Connor eyes it dubiously, glancing around to see who's in the room.

"It's cool," Hyms says. "Goalie protected and everything."

Connor looks over to Freddie's stall but Freddie's already most of the way into goalie headspace so Connor just says thanks. He plays pretty good, getting sent over the boards with Matts and Hyms and Connor might not have Willy's flair but he's holding his own.

There's another coffee waiting ahead of the next home game and when they play the Sabres at home, Freddie just hooks Connor's shoulder and brings him to get coffee from the in-stadium Starbucks. By the time Connor actually thinks to question it, it's just their pre-game thing.

Connor thinks of complaining, but he _likes_ Freddie. He likes spending time with Freddie. He thinks that they might be friends even. It's probably okay to be friends with his soul-mate, right?

They play well, mostly. Connor finds a Danish bakery in Toronto and sneaks small boxes of pastries into Freddie's locker for the whole of October. Freddie isn't playing badly but it's like he kicked a black cat into a mirror or something; every little slip winds up in the back of the net and the media are assholes about it, like they always are.

So, Connor invites Freddie over for game nights with the boys, suggests a couple of restaurants that Freddie might want to check out and generally tries to cheer him up. It doesn't take more than a couple of weeks for Freddie to regain his mojo.

Mostly, Connor is trying to play his best hockey. He's a semi-permanent fixture on the first line and boy, do the media have opinions on that. Marns is playing okay but you wouldn't know that if you just read the sports pages. Connor has a couple of beers with him, lets him bitch about it and tries to be a good team-mate.

The season is long but they settle into a playoff position early and just...stay there. Connor's been a Leafs fan long enough that he doesn't trust it but they make it pretty comfortably. They're going to be playing Boston and Connor won't lie - he kinda freaks out a little.

They get one night to go and get drunk and celebrate making the playoffs despite the so-called 'sophomore slump'. There's also the issue of Plekanac. He's a good guy but it's impossible to see him in blue. The guy only hangs around for a drink and then goes back to the hotel he's staying in.

It's probably for the best.

Connor's getting his round of drinks and he comes back to a table of half-drunk hockey players whispering like they're trying to be sneaky. Mo is hushing everyone while waving his hands around and the other A's are looking serious.

The way the table hushes up when Connor gets to it is also a little suspicious. Connor can't stare at them because he has a double handful of drinks that he needs to put down.

"Why are you all looking at me like I walked in the middle of the 'be cool' talk?"

"The what?" Andreas sits up and squints at him. He's still in the 'disbelief' stage of his NHL career and he keeps double-checking everything.

"You know, the 'some players in the team like guys, be cool' talk?" Connor says.

"You're gay?" Andreas says, wincing immediately. It's kinda fascinating to watch the way his whole face goes red. Everyone else around the table is just... looking at him. Mo looks pissed, JVR is looking at the ceiling and Willy is obviously being held back by Hyms on one side and Kappy on the other.

"The fuck-" Mitch starts.

"Bi, actually," Connor says crisply. "Now shove the fuck over or I'm taking these drinks back to the bar."

Marty cracks up even as he does push Mitch and Matts over to make room for Connor. Most of the rest of the table is glaring at Andreas but Freddie, Bozie and Polack are looking at Connor. Connor busies himself with handing out drinks.

"Well," Mo breaks the awkward silence. "That wasn't the reason but thanks, we appreciate that you trust us with that information."

"It's not a state secret," Connor points out, in the interests of fairness. "All the Otters know."

"You're shitting me!" Mitch pipes up. "And Stromer never said anything?"

Connor half-shrugs. He's kinda surprised too but he will take the distraction please and thank you. The conversation gets nicely derailed into gossip about the minors and Connor gets to drink his beer and just breathe.

Mo works his way over, wobbling a little from the evening and tells Connor's shoulder that 'really, I'm happy for you, man. Thanks for telling us. It's cool though. Okay?"

He's mostly drunk and Connor pats his head and tunes him out. Mo takes his 'A' super seriously and Connor thinks he does a good job. He doesn't think the guys are going to turn on him or anything but it's still cool to have Mo reassuring him.

Connor does hand him off to Zaits when Mo starts talking about doing a team thing for Pride. Most of the guys have spread out over the surrounding tables; Matts is about to be fleeced by Kappy at the pool table and Marty is showing Mitch how to use the retro-pinball table.

It's early enough that Connor feels okay about getting one last drink. He's not expecting Freddie to be waiting for him at the bar. It does make getting his drink easier - Freddie isn't the kind of guy who anyone overlooks. Freddie gets his drink and herds Connor a little off to the side where it's quieter. It's still dark enough that he can't read Freddie's expression.

"What's up?" Connor calls over the music.

"You okay?" Freddie is watching him.

"'m fine," Connor blinks.

"You just outed yourself to the team," Freddie says like he's picking the words very carefully. "That's a big deal."

"It's cool," Connor says.

"If it was 'cool', you would have felt comfortable telling us earlier," Freddie points out and Connor flounders.

"It's not like that, c'mon, Freddie," he manages. "It just... it never came up! I didn't even think of it most of last year."

Freddie says nothing. Connor has a sinking feeling that he is too drunk for this conversation.

"Plus," Connor shrugs, "it would have been a big deal if I did just bring it up."

Freddie tilts his head consideringly. "You don't talk about your love life?"

"Yeah," Connor can feel the heat in his cheeks. "Because there's nothing to talk about!"

Freddie's gaze shifts to the leather cover around Connor's wrist. Connor just about wins over the impulse to hide his wrist behind his back. "You don't talk about that either."

It's not quite a question but the silence gets awkward really, really quick. Connor rubs his wrist against his side.

"Yeah, well, you don't believe in soulmates," Connor swears that the mark is starting to warm up under the leather. "I didn't want to be a dick."

"You do believe in soulmates?" Freddie's half-smile is just a curve in the shadow.

"Yeah," Connor says because he can't lie to Freddie about this. "I always have. Used to be a dick about it when I was in juniors."

"You don't talk about it now," Freddie is watching him.

"Mo told me to tone it down," Connor admits. "I didn't want to be a dick and I just kinda grew up, I guess."

"Are you still looking for them?"

Oh, that's not a question Connor wants to think about. He feels hot all over, stomach twisting as the booze in his gut goes sour all at once and he can't look at Freddie.

"Nah," Connor forces a slight smile. "It's fate, you know? It'll happen when it happens. That's the whole point."

"hmm," Freddie looks at him and Connor is irrationally sure that Freddie can see right through him. There's a second of silence that feels like it lasts a year. Freddie leans close enough to bump shoulders and Connor thinks he might be about to say something.

"YOU GUYSSSSZZZ!" Willy crashes into them like a drunken forward crashing the net.

"Hi, Willy," Freddie deadpans and Willy giggles, lurching sideways into Freddie in what Connor thinks is an attempt to stand up.

"Heeeyyyyyyyy Freddddie!"

"I'll grab Hyms," Connor offers and he fights his way back to the table to find Mitch face down and drooling while Hyms argues with Carrick about who's going to see him home. Connor gets as far as "I think Willy's dru-" before Hyms just puts his face in his hands.

Connor somehow gets to share a cab with Mitch and Marty who is such a mellow drunk that Connor is legit worried he's going to slide onto the floor. Mitch latches onto Connor and mashes his face into Connor's shoulder. His breath reeks like a brewery and Mitch is talking - well, slurring incoherently.

Connor nods, pats him on the shoulder and prays for him not to puke. Marns keeps pawing at him and really, Connor just wants him to pass out. The taxi drops Marty off first because the universe just hates Connor apparently. He tells the driver to stop off at Mitch's building first because Mitch is drunk enough that he's talking about otters holding hands and getting teary about it.

If Mitch breaks his leg or something because he's drunk, Coach is going to bench Connor for the rest of his life. It's better to suck it up, pat Mitch on the head and pour him inside his own door and just crawl home.

Connor has the hazy thought, just as he's brushing the taste of Gatorade out of his mouth, that it's just as well the playoffs are starting. He's not keen on all the emoting.

The series against the Bruins is just brutal. They're losing and they shouldn't be and nothing is working. It's not like the Bruins are running away with this; the Leafs are never more than a lucky bounce behind them. Nothing is clicking and the clock runs out on Game 7 and they've lost.

It doesn't feel real. They just shuffle back into the locker room and there's just silence. Even Coach just shakes his head and tells them to hit the showers. Connor stays sober for locker clear out and then goes and drinks half his mom's liquor cabinet.

The hangover is fucking miserable. Connor feels like he's been hit by a truck. He's useless for days afterwards and his summer training is hell when he finally gets back to it.

He stops drinking more than a couple of drinks when the boys get together because his hangover never lasts less than three days. His muscles ache for hours after a simple workout. He's tired all the time and he isn't putting on off-season bulk like he should.

Connor plays ignorant for two weeks before he goes to the team nutritionist and gets a revised diet plan which his mom copies and puts on her fridge so Connor gets invited over for dinner every couple of nights.

It doesn't help much. Connor isn't putting on weight like he should.

He's still skating okay, the trainers aren't complaining but Connor's sleeping ten hours a night and he's still always tired. The trainers start watching him a little more closely and Connor winds up back in Doctor Janet's office again after another week of Connor dragging.

"Well," she says after drawing blood and running all the normal tests. "I don't think you're sick."

"Okay..."

"Unfortunately," she takes her glasses off and puts them on the desk. "Well, your symptoms are consistent with a progression of BRS. I won't know for sure until we get your WBC count back but it seems likely."

"Oh."

"I'd like to examine your mark, if you don't mind?" Doctor Janet says.

"Uh, sure?" Connor has to fiddle with the various catches and straps and his cover sticks to his mark when he finally gets it loose.

"Okay, so we have a little seepage here," Doctor Janet pulls on a fresh set of gloves and turns his wrist over. "But it doesn't look inflamed. Doesn't feel too warm."

She touches the mark and Connor winces a little. "A little tender to the touch?"

"It's just like a bruise, like an old one," Connor says. "It hurts a little but it's just ...sore when you poke it."

"Okay," Doctor Janet presses along the edges of his Mark. "Okay, it doesn't seem swollen and there's no rash that I can feel. That's all good."

She wipes Connor's wrist down with an anti-septic wipe before she sits back and takes off her gloves. Connor starts fastening his wrist strap back on as she bins her gloves. His Mark feels okay, a little raw but it's been like that on and off for months.

"So," Doctor Janet looks at him and smiles. "It doesn't look like your RBS is progressing too quickly. Have you been interacting with your intended lately?"

"Uhh, not really?"

"That might be part of the trouble," Doctor Janet says. "As I said, there's no serious research into the effects of platonic relationship with an intended so I don't know for sure. I am going to give you some iron supplements just because I think you're a little anemic."

"Thanks, doc," Connor puts his cover back on and takes the bottle of supplements. He's a little shaken and he goes back to training as hard as he can. He's still tired, still hurts more than he used to but he tries to think of it as getting old. He also goes out with Marns and an ever-changing mob from juniors a couple of times before the hangovers get to be too much of a hassle.

Matts is in town from time to time; mostly media stuff but he calls Connor to meet up for dinner once or twice. He hangs with Hyms, goes to meet Naz's fiancée who is amazing and generally makes an effort to stay in touch with the boys.

The front office calls when they sign Ennis and Connor meets up with the guy as an unofficial welcome wagon. Enzo's a little weird but he's a nice guy and he's clearly desperate to prove himself. Connor winds up hanging out with him every few days because Enzo doesn't know anyone else.

It takes no time at all for Enzo to open up a little, then a lot.

"I can't quit," he bursts out one morning, desperate and defiant.

"I was asking about your coffee order," Connor points out, "but hey, good for you!"

"I-my-" Enzo seems to run out of words. He ducks his head and must catch sight of Connor's guard for the first time. "You have a soulmate!"

"...yeah?" Connor says.

Enzo shoves down the sleeve of his hoodie and Connor blinks at the guard strapped to his wrist. It's infinitely flimsier than Connor's, one of those cotton canvas guards that people who don't really care about covering their Marks wear.

"Huh, you too?" Connor lifts a shoulder. "Freddie doesn't like the idea but he's not a dick about it most of the time. The rest of the boys think it's romantic."

Enzo peers doubtfully up at him. "Even if I know who it is?"

"Hey, really? That's awesome!" Connor says. "What's their name?"

Enzo tilts his head and just looks at Connor. The silence curdles between them.

"You said 'their'," Enzo says. "Not 'her'."

"Yeaaah?" Connor folds his arms, fidgety and uncomfortable. "I didn't want to assume."

"What if..." Enzo swallows. "What if it's ' _his_ '?"

"...congratulations?" Connor shrugs and drums his fingers against his own side. "I mean, unless he's being a dick about you, like, also having a dick? In which case, I can get Marty, Naz and Gards to loom in the background while Mo talks about the wonders of diversity and inclusiveness? It'll only take like a case of beer."

Enzo blows out his breath and all the tension Connor hadn't realized was there goes out with it.

"He's not a dick. He's perfect."

"Well, then, congratulations!" Connor pats Enzo on the shoulder because he's not sure Enzo is a huggy person.

Enzo turns out to be a very huggy person. It's like being climbed by a giant koala. Connor pats his back and tries to make sense of the rush of words that escape.

As far as he can tell, Enzo's soulmate used to be a team-mate and he's very supportive of Enzo's career. That's good. Enzo's soulmate doesn't want to jeopardize Enzo's chances of signing by coming out. "Nobody wants the tiny gay hockey player or something." Enzo thinks his soulmate is right but he doesn't want his soulmate to be right. Enzo also doesn't like that his soulmate won't even come to Toronto until Enzo's signed because neither of them know if the guys are cool or assholes.

Connor is so dumping this in Mo's lap as soon as he gets back from Vancouver for camp. This is way above his pay grade.

"His name is Cody," Enzo tells Connor as they're getting into Connor's car to drive to the gym.

"Cool name," Connor says and the subject thankfully drops there.

After that, Enzo clearly decides that Connor is 'cool'. He's clearly missing all his old hockey buddies and just as clearly busting his ass to prove himself to the Leafs. He's mostly a cool gym buddy so Connor adjusts his own training plan a little so they're working out together and Enzo has someone to talk to.

Enzo is pretty chill about spotting for him, sniffs out the best smoothie place in three blocks to the practice facility and takes random photos which is weird but Connor figures that he's sharing with his soulmate so the guy knows Enzo's making friends. Connor doesn't find out that Enzo's also apparently posting on insta until he starts getting whiny texts from Mitch about 'ignoring' him. He rolls his eyes and carries on until Hyms shows up at the gym one morning while Enzo is fiddling with his phone and introduces himself.

"Had to see who was keeping you busy," he tells Connor.

"Ha, ha," Connor huffs as he starts another set of reps.

"Seriously," Hyms smiles at him. "You've been ditching everybody. Even Freddie's feeling left out."

"And you decided to step up?" Connor finishes his set. "You could just have texted."

"I could," Hyms agrees. "You're coming to lunch, right?"

Connor wipes his face. "Am I getting a choice?"

"Sure you are!" Hyms's smile shows more teeth than usual. "You can come under your own power or Mitch and Naz can drag you."

"Fuckers," Connor says and that's that.

He gets to the shower and when he goes to take off his cover, it sticks for a second and stings when he pulls it the whole way off. His mark is red around the edges and Connor can feel the raised edges when he runs his thumb over it. It doesn't hurt. Connor washes the sweat off his mark and straps his cover back on as soon as the skin is dry.

Enzo is chattering to Hyms about elliptical orbits and meteors. Zach is nodding along cheerfully and asking questions. Enzo's shoulders still drop about three inches when Connor comes out of the dressing room.

"So, Hyms was saying some of the boys are meeting for lunch," Connor says, "feel like meeting not-me team-mates?"

"You're coming too?" Enzo checks and Connor sees Hyms's eyebrow rise just a little.

"Yeah, should be fun."

They take Connor's car because Zach came by bus, the lunatic, and Enzo doesn't know where the deli is. Connor finds a parking space that isn't on the far side of the city in about five minutes. Zach is telling Enzo a funny story about one of his book signings as Connor nudges the door open.

Hyms wasn't kidding; there must be half the team sitting at the table in the back. Mitch comes barreling over and nearly knocks Connor off his feet.

"DUUUUUUDE!"

"Hi, Mitchell," Connor deadpans before hugging him back. "Enzo, this is Mitch. Yes, he is always at least this hyper. No, you cannot punch him or Coach will bag skate you though the ice."

"Asshole," Mitch punches him in the shoulder before sticking his hand out to Enzo. "Hi! I'm Marns."

Enzo shakes his hand and Connor sees Mitch's eye flick down to the cover on his wrist and back up super fast. Then Naz is hollering for them to come sit down and there's the usual scrimmage of sorting seats. Enzo sticks tight to Connor's side but he says hi to all the boys, gets into passionate debates about the right way to tape a stick and Connor gets to chat to Naz and Hainsey.

He drops Enzo and Hyms off at about six after lunch nearly turned into brunch. Mitch had badgered them all about coming out for drinks but Connor's nearly dead on his feet and his cover is itching against his mark. He doesn't want to risk the hangover. He just wants to go home, eat and pass out.

He's stirring sauce into his pasta when his phone starts playing the Auston Matthews rap.

"Goddammit, Mitch," Connor says because that was not the ringtone he'd assigned Matts. He manages to snag his phone before it vibrates right off the counter and tucks it against his shoulder. "Hey, Matty."

"How's it going, Brownie?" Matts sounds...off.

"Fine," Connor looks around for his spatula. "What's the big occasion?"

"What? What occasion?"

"I am being graced by a phone call from the great Auston Matthews and we aren't even in camp for another two weeks," Connor points out. He's mostly joking; him and Matts are more the 'casual texting' kind of off-season buddies because that's what's comfortable.

"Fuck off," Matts says. "I call you."

"Not usually," Connor says, "but I am curious. What's up?"

"Look," Auston starts and then he sighs. "I'm sorry about this, okay? I don't like prying but Freddie and Mitch are just blowing up my phone-"

"What? Why?"

"-just going to ask," Matts says in a rush of words. "Is Ennis your soulmate?"

"What? No! Dude!"

"Okay," Matts exhales. "I'm sorry for being pushy but, like, Mitch said he saw the guy's mark and he thought it was a 'C' and he wanted to ask Freddie because Freddie's the only other guy with a bond, you know? And Freddie..."

"Hates soulmate talk more than breakaways," Connor fills in. "Why was he looking at Tyler's wrist anyway?"

"Because you've been hanging out with him, training and nothing else," Matts says. "I'm glad he's not your soulmate."

Connor stiffens. "Why is that?"

Matts seems to hear himself. "Not like that! I don't care that he's a dude, c'mon Brownie, you know that. I'm just glad he's not your soulmate 'cause Mitch was saying that you looked like shit."

"Oh, fuck him very much!"

"Not like that," Matts' tone shifts into something easier, more 'Captain-doing-Captainly-pep-talk'. "He just thought you looked like you could do with a break. I'll tell him to call off Marty, okay?"

Connor weighs things up and sighs. "Look, this is private and I don't want you telling people but Enzo's already met his soulmate. He's talking to me because I'm the only one in the city that wears a cover. He just doesn't wanna advertise it until he's signed all the paperwork and convinced himself the boys aren't gonna be dicks. I'm working on it but he's nervous, okay?"

"Oh, oh okay," Matts says. "Shit, yeah, that makes sense. I'll tell Mitch to play nice and I'll tell Hyms to let Mo know we need some captain mojo whenever he gets off his butt and gets back home."

"Thank you," Connor says. "Can I go eat my dinner now?"

"I suppose," Matts' smile is audible and Connor chuffs out a laugh. "Thanks for telling me, man. I really am sorry but I was losing my mind-"

"It's cool," Connor pulls over a plate and starts ladling out the pasta onto a plate. "See you in a couple of weeks, Matts."

"See you then."

Connor leaves his phone on the counter and brings his plate into the sofa where a 'classic' episode of Dancing With The Stars is playing. He eats mechanically and tries not to panic about the whole mess. Tyler is a good guy; Connor doesn't want him thinking that they're all jerks or worse.

He gets up to put the plate and his fork in the dishwasher. He reaches for his phone and he's honestly going to text Mo but when he scrolls down, he stops on Freddie's number. He hesitates. There's nothing he needs to say to Freddie. Whatever Matts was talking about, Freddie doesn't give a shit.

His thumb taps the text window. " _hey, just letting you know. enzo (ennis) has a soulmate and he's kinda goofy in love. hes not pranking or anything but he might slip up._ "

The dots that pop up immediately are a surprise; Freddie's in Denmark for the week and it's got to be like 1am there.

" _I'll remember._ "

Then, a couple of seconds later. " _Don't let him talk you into training too hard. You need to rest too._ "

" _will do_ " Connor texts back.

He manages not to send some stupid 'sleep well' text and even manages to write a plausibly vague email to Mo, laying out the whole 'gay and soulmated' thing before he goes to bed and pulls a pillow over his face.

When he gets to the gym the next morning, Mitch, Hyms and Gards are all waiting in the locker room. Mitch and Enzo are talking about something, both of them babbling over each other and Connor shakes his head fondly.

They go for lunch which becomes dinner and then a hotly-contested, multi-continent CoD tournament held mostly in Mitch's apartment with Willy, Kappy and Freddie dialing in from Europe and Matts and Mo from different corners of North America. Connor falls asleep on Mitch's couch and it's the best two hours of sleep he's managed since May.

It sets a pattern for what's left of the summer. More teammates and prospects come back to the city and the little workout group grows and Enzo relaxes a little more with every player who claps him on the back and congratulates him on snagging his soulmate. Matts comes back three days early and has to sleep on Mitch's couch for two nights because his apartment needs to be cleaned.

Connor isn't looking for Freddie, until he walks into the locker room two days before camp begins and Freddie is pulling his Under Armor on over his head. He catches sight of Connor and oh. Oh, that isn't _fair_! Freddie's smile creases up the corner of his eyes and he covers the distance between them in like one step and hugs Connor tight enough that he lifts him off the ground.

Connor just about gets his arms around Freddie but he hugs him back as best he can and god, Freddie feels so warm. For a second, Connor can't feel the dull ache behind his eyes or the ache of the bruises from his last on-ice training session.

Then Freddie sets him down and Connor's knees almost buckle.

"Connor!" Freddie catches him by the shoulders.

"I'm fine," Connor says, "just, wasn't expecting you to be beasting it up already."

Hainsey laughs from where he's pulling on his socks and Freddie half-smiles, still watching Connor closely. Connor can feel the faint pepper-spice of worry from Freddie and his Mark itches like hell. Mo comes in with a couple of rolls of tape and the moment breaks.

Connor is one of the last off the ice, talking to Coach who is talking about bouncing him around the lines a little until they find out how JT and Enzo are going to settle in. Most of the guys are through their showers and getting dressed which is a blessing. Connor shucks his jersey and pads and hits the showers.

He unfastens his cover and hooks it over the showerhead. His mark is still a sullen red and feels like a day-old sunburn under the water. Connor lets his head thunk into the tiles and just lets the spray pound into his shoulders. He's just tired. So damn tired.

The light touch on his back jerks him back to the present. Enzo rocks back with his hands up. "Sorry! I just-"

He reaches out again. "Your bruises look a lot better along there."

Connor curls his arm so he's hiding his Mark against his chest and Enzo glances at it so fast that Connor might have missed it. Connor half-shrugs and turns back into the spray. He's not having this conversation in the damn shower.

Enzo surprises him; he doesn't say anything. He just starts an argument between Kappy and Mitch about the best pizza place for lunch and talks to Hyms about going to visit the Smithsonian when they're in New York. Freddie is talking to Sparks and Mack about coffee and the new goalie pads.

Connor finishes getting changed and makes some non-committal noises when some of the boys talk about grabbing dinner. He's one of the last guys coming out of the locker room and Connor goes straight to Doctor Janet's office.

He gets more shots, more blood draws and a lot of tests. Doctor Janet's smile is a little more forced when she talks to him.

"Well, you've probably guessed but this does look like your BRS is starting to progress," she says. "Unfortunately, this doesn't look like typical progression. There isn't a lot of literature on this because many people who are suffering from RBS refuse medical attention so it's difficult to predict..."

"But I can play, right?"

"I can't recommend playing," Doctor Janet sighs, "but you're young and you're a hockey player and technically, none of your symptoms are serious enough to justify scratching you."

"So I can play?"

"As long as you are _careful_ ," Doctor Janet taps her fingers against her desk. "Your main symptoms are related to healing and you could suffer serious consequences if you actually get hurt. You've been lucky so far so I don't want you making me regret this. You have to be careful!"

"I will," Connor promises.

He goes home, makes himself eat a full dinner and falls into bed. He sleeps like shit, throwing the covers off and half-freezing and he wakes up for good forty minutes before his alarm goes off. His mark is itching and he takes off the cover, lifting his arm to look at it.

The colors look washed out, almost like watercolors instead of the bold colors he's familiar with. The black lines are dull but still clearly there. The main source of the itching is red raised lines like someone pressed a scribbly pattern on top of the mark. Connor scratches one line and the itching gets like a million times worse. He curses and rolls out of bed.

A cold shower takes care of the itching, mostly. Connor straps on his cover again and doesn't take it off for longer than he absolutely has to for the rest of training camp. He keeps an ice-pack on his arm, just up from his cover when they're watching tape and mostly nobody notices.

Mainly, nobody notices because Freddie comes to training that day like a bear with a sore head. Nobody seems to know why but the shooting drill is hell on everyone. Mo gets glared back to the opposite blue line when he tries to skate over and chat. Auston takes one look at the whole thing and nopes the fuck out.

Connor barely manages to get his three shots off without getting his ankles snapped and he circles back to prop up the boards behind Kappy. Naz is moaning to Tavares who Connor hasn't really talked to yet. Even Coach is watching Freddie with both eyebrows up.

"Is he always like this with his own teammates?" Enzo wheezes as he spins into the boards beside Connor.

"Freddie?" Connor shakes his head. "Not unless the guys are fucking around."

"So who's pissed in his cereal this time?" Hainsey grumps from further down the line. Marns giggles and Freddie's head snaps up and everyone shuts up.

Connor can't feel anything but seething frustration across their not-bond but Freddie feels like he does when they're tied and a stupid, fluky goal goes in. Like he's going to wall off his goal or die trying.

The itching under his cover becomes a prickling agony but Connor doesn't reach for his arm or move. He doesn't want to fucking know.

The pre-season starts in a rush of fresh energy and Connor gets to meet Enzo's soulmate Cody between two home games. He seems like a nice guy, way quieter than Enzo but much more confident and he's clearly more a 'manly handshake' guy. He hugs Connor, says "Thank you!" fervently into his ear and then immediately looks awkward.

Connor kinda likes him, thinks that he could (will) probably like him a lot once he knows him better and is achingly, viciously jealous. Enzo and Cody look at each other like they still can't believe it; like they're getting to lift the Cup every time. He's happy for them but he goes home with a dull burn under his cover and an empty feeling in his chest.

He throws himself into the pre-season games as hard as he can. Coach is planning to keep him up but Connor needs the focus, the ice and the opposition to distract him. Connor doesn't pay too much attention to who they're playing because he's more focused on how the team is coming together. He's mostly on Naz's line, which is fine. He likes Naz and Enzo ends up with them more often than not.

Life on Naz's line is never boring. Connor knew Naz wasn't exactly popular with other teams but wow, everyone is trying to start shit with him. Naz loves it, constantly chirping and jostling with other players. Connor mostly tries to keep things from escalating into a line brawl.

He doesn't like cheap shots and he doesn't like the shitty trash talk so Connor isn't as careful as he could be when gloves go flying. Doctor Janet frowns at him but Connor's lucky and never needs more than an ice pack and some ibuprofen. He's lucky. Nothing happens.

Until they're playing the Capitals and Connor's luck runs out. Wilson gets on the ice and he and Naz start beaking. The refs break them up once, twice, three times in the first period. Coach tells Naz to back off and not let Wilson get to him. Enzo catches Connor's eye and they both sigh.

Wilson isn't saying anything particularly inventive and Naz is mostly calling him out for being an unimaginative shithead when the whistle goes for the end of the second period. Wilson gets one glove off but the refs shove him off after the rest of his team. Coach doesn't even bother saying anything to Naz and they go out for the second two goals up.

Coach sends them out for the opening face-off. Wilson is circling and both linesmen are watching him as Naz goes for the puck-drop. Connor glances at Enzo and then the whistle goes and they're off. Backstrom gets the puck up the ice but Mo's on it and sends a beauty of pass right up on Connor's tape.

He takes off, flicks it past Burkie to Naz and goes for the net. Naz dekes around Backstrom and Enzo dives past Wilson who blocks like he thinks Enzo a foot taller. Backstrom manages a deflection when Naz tries to pass and the puck goes into the corner. Connor's moving almost before it happens, jostling Burkie as they both try to dig the puck out.

Connor doesn't even see Wilson. There's just a flicker of movement and the world goes spinning sideways. There's a 'crack' that sounds like it's inside his head and everything blurs out.

Something solid hits him so hard, Connor braces for the crack of bones. The world is still all blurred and the sound is a wall of just...noise. He feels like he's floating and his mark is _burning_. Connor tries to say something but his jaw is locked and his eyes keep sliding closed.

"-nie!" Enzo. He sounds seriously freaked-out.

"Is he-" That sounds like Burkie and Connor tries to get his eyes open.

The world is searingly bright and Connor twists away. The sound comes rushing back again but this time, he can make out the sounds of the crowd and Enzo shouting for the trainer. He's on the ice, Connor remembers and he rolls over. The ice is super slick and he has to fight just to stay on his knees.

"Don't-!" Enzo chuffs out an aggravated sigh "Just wait for the trainer, okay?"

"'m fine," Connor insists.

"Sure you are," Mo is like right there and Connor nearly loses his precarious balance. "Just stay right there, okay? Trainer's coming."

The trainer takes one look at Connor and pretty much orders him off the ice. Connor can't even get his feet under him so his counter-argument is kinda weak. Mo and Gards have to half-carry him to the bench. Hyms gets the door for him and looks at him like Connor's bleeding out, instead of just bleeding a little from his head.

Doctor Janet hurries him into the trainer's room and out of his pads. His arm is starting to _burn_ and Connor claws at his cover.

"It's okay, I've got it," Doctor Janet soothes him. "Just try to stay still."

Connor can feel the heat from his arm in his cheeks and up along his neck. The trainer's room feels like a sauna and too bright. He's tired again - eyes slipping closed and taking too much effort to open. Doctor Janet fusses over his wrist and the slow-leaking pain on his head.

Connor ends up, half-sitting up with his arm propped on a pillow and a cold wet cloth spread over his mark. Doctor Janet talks over his head about concussion testing and whether or not Connor needs to go to hospital. Connor doesn't get a say; his tongue feels like it's too big for his mouth and he gets shushed every time he opens his mouth.

The chill on his arm is just enough to distract him from the itching burn and Connor swallows the bitter stickiness that's gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Swallowing does nothing for the taste but at least he can breathe a little easier. Connor's drifting a little, just not thinking when he hears someone gasp.

His eyes snap open and it's Freddie. Freddie is standing in the doorway, in his pads and jersey with his helmet in one hand. He's staring at Connor. No, he's staring at Connor's arm.

Connor looks down - the cloth that Doctor Janet used was white and it's pretty much transparent. The colors of his mark are practically shining through the cloth - he might as well not have the cloth on his arm at all.

Freddie's helmet hitting the ground sounds like a thunderclap and Connor flinches. Then Freddie's _right there_ , taking up all the space and the air in the room. His fingers skim over Connor's arm and the mark feels like it's singing. The rush of heat up his spine makes his head spin as Freddie closes his hand very deliberately around the mark.

It feels like...scoring short-handed: new skates on virgin ice: lazy afternoon sunshine. Connor's the one who gasps this time. Freddie's lips are rough but the kiss is gentle. Connor has the wild thought that maybe he's hallucinating but Freddie makes a grouchy sound and his free hand comes up to cup Connor's cheek.

Connor has to pull back after an eternity because his lungs are burning and the world is spinning. Freddie presses his forehead into Connor's and Connor can feel the faint stickiness of sweat (his or Freddie's, he can't tell) and they breathe together for a long minute.

Freddie's grip on his wrist shifts and he moves so they're both looking down at Connor's mark. The colors are visibly brightening, the lines darkening and looking more solid. Freddie reaches for his own cover with his free hand, fumbles at the catches and almost rips it off.

"oh." Connor breathes. He's known for nearly three years but it's different to see Freddie's mark and trace the familiar patterns. It's the mirror of Connor's, looking a little smaller on Freddie's bigger arm but richly colored and vibrant.

"Yeah," Freddie kinda huffs and Connor's fingers are shaking when he reaches out to touch Freddie's mark. It tingles and Connor shivers a little. He can feel Freddie but it's like the difference between hearing someone calling across the ice and having them talking right into your ear.

It's all chaos; Connor doesn't think Freddie knows what he's feeling. Connor doesn't. Connor's head still hurts but in a distant sort of way that doesn't seem real. Freddie rubs his thumb over Connor's mark and Connor lists sideways into him. Freddie just takes his weight, solid as bedrock.

Connor lets his eyes close, breathes deep and just soaks in Freddie's warmth and presence. His thoughts are still floating and the world doesn't feel entirely stable yet but he's secure right where he is.

"Connor-?" Doctor Janet's voice breaks the quiet and Connor winces away from the light. Freddie's arm comes up to shield him and Connor can feel the rumble of Freddie speaking against his cheek. He can't fit the sounds together into words but he doesn't need to, Freddie's got this.

He drifts for another endless period of time, punctuated by Freddie's rumble and Doctor Janet's distant voice. He's halfway to falling asleep when cool fingers touch his cheek and he startles.

"Sorry, sorry," Doctor Janet is crouched down beside him. "I just need to run some tests..."

Connor jerks away from the sudden bright light and brings up his free hand to try and knock it away. Doctor Janet makes random soothing noises but pulls his hand away and shines the light into his eyes. Connor lets her poke at him, anchored by Freddie's arm around his waist until the light clicks off and she sits back.

"Connor?" Connor grunts at her. "Connor, I need you to look at me, please?"

Connor opens an eye.

"Freddie needs to step out, okay? He has to take off his pads and then you're going to go home. Just sit up a little for us, okay?"

Connor feels the chill the second Freddie lets go. Freddie squeezes his arm and steps back slow and reluctant. Connor forces his own fingers to open and he shivers. Doctor Janet catches his shoulder to steady him. He hears Freddie's skates on the floor and the door closing.

"Connor?" Doctor Janet shakes his shoulder lightly. "Come on, Connor, I need you to answer a question for me."

Connor nods and immediately regrets it.

"Your BRS is going into rapid remission and Freddie wants to take you home so you can get better." Doctor Janet pauses. "Are you okay with that? You don't have to go with Freddie if you don't want to."

"Want," Connor shakes his head. "Freddie."

"Okay," Doctor Janet has a smile that makes him think of his mom. "I have to check and I want to see you both back here tomorrow."

"'k," Connor presses his hands to his eyes. The world is lurching sideways again and he tastes acid on the back of his tongue. Then Freddie is there, pulling a hoodie over his head and guiding him up onto his feet.

Connor doesn't register most of the trip home. He remembers wobbling down the corridors to the car park as the roar of the crowd echoes around them. He remembers Freddie's arm, mark humming under his fingertips. Then somewhere along the line, Connor just slips back into oblivion.

It's dark when he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed.

His head is clear, aching a little but he can kind of string a thought together. He's sleep-heavy, warm and more relaxed than he's been for months.

And he's not alone. There's a big arm draped over his middle and Connor can feel steady breathing against the back of his neck. Connor blinks and the disjointed memories of that(?) afternoon float up. His eyes snap open and his heart kicks up a notch.

The arm around his middle tightens, pulling him back against a big solid body and Connor might just be having a heart attack. Also a boner because his pride clearly hasn't suffered enough.

"Breathe, Connor," Freddie rumbles in his ear.

Connor kinda squeaks and Freddie laughs. He does try to steady his breathing and take in his surroundings. He doesn't recognize the room but it's smooth lines and classy. He's also down to his boxers and a t-shirt that's swimming around him. And Freddie is spooning him.

"Um," Connor tries to figure out where to even start.

Freddie rolls him over in a casual display of strength that goes straight to Connor's dick and his cheeks heat. There's just enough light from the window that he can see the gleam of Freddie's eyes. It's still dark enough that Connor doesn't feel totally exposed.

He can feel Freddie's feelings through the bond, as clearly as if they're his own. There's amusement, a flash of heat and a deep, warm fondness that fills up the whole world. Connor pokes at it mentally, still not sure he's not having a weird hallucination and a strong surge of emotion drives the breath out of his lungs.

Freddie catches hold of his arm, mark singing under the rough press of his thumb. "Why?"

"Y-you're going to have to be more specific," Connor dodges and Freddie's temper is pepper spicy and stings like a deflected slapshot.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Freddie's voice is even but his fingers dig into Connor's skin.

"You didn't want a soulmate." Connor thinks of that day in the locker-room, the poison in Freddie's tone and the snarl of his voice and feels his stomach twist. "I-we had to be team-mates. I didn't want you to hate me."

"Never," Freddie promises and Connor thinks how easy it would be to just let himself trust Freddie. "I couldn't hate you if I wanted to, Connor."

"That's just the bond," Connor says. "Hormones and shit."

Exasperation is citric-sour and fleeting then Freddie hooks his arm up around Connor's back and draws him closer.

"I've been in love with you for ages," Freddie says, matter of fact. "I never thought I could have you but I wanted you."

Connor looks away and Freddie sighs. There's a faint tickle of mental pressure and suddenly Connor's seeing the locker room and himself, like it's a camera. The him in the memory is talking with Zach and they both burst out laughing, giggling like teenage girls and Connor feels the wash of like...warmth and wanting.

"I wanted to break Ennis' knees," Freddie says casually.

"What? Why the fuck?"

"I thought he was your soulmate," Freddie says easily but Connor tastes something bitter and metallic across the bond, "and he wasn't taking care of you. That's why the boys wanted to chase him off but I just didn't want him to have you."

Connor's remembering Matts' phone call and Freddie's fleeting embarrassment feels like a fresh hot cup of coffee.

"Tyler is not my soulmate and I never thought he was," Connor pokes Freddie in the chest. "Tyler's soulmate is a nice guy called Cody and he spent all that time worrying that the team was gonna have a problem about the gay thing."

"Huh," Freddie rubs his hand up Connor's back. "Well. That's all right then."

"No breaking his knees," Connor says firmly and Freddie laughs.

"I won't, I promise."

The silence settles over them and it's comfortable. Freddie's warm and solid and Connor kinda can't believe it even now. He's spent so long trying not to think about soulmates and bonds and now he doesn't really remember how to? It's weird and Connor feels like he's skating on lake ice, one ear open for the sound of cracking.

Freddie nudges him and Connor looks back up at him. Freddie's frowning and Connor can feel his heart stutter a little. He's fucking this up already. He hasn't even done something and he's fucking this up.

"Stop," Freddie orders. "You're not fucking this up."

"Yet," Connor says and Freddie shakes his head.

"You're still frightened," he says and Connor feels him reaching through the bond, "or ...hurt. Is this the Bond Rejection thing?"

Connor almost says 'yes' but he can't lie to Freddie. He really doesn't want to talk about this but they have to. He can feel Freddie's focus, lasering in along the bond.

"I..." Fuck. Connor doesn't even know where to _start_. Freddie shifts a little closer and a wave of reassurance washes along the bond. "You know, I used to be so happy that I had a soulmate? Like, really happy?"

There's another memory flash from Freddie, all jumbled up and all Connor really gets is a sense of Hyms's fond smile and a sting of embarrassment. Connor's eyes sting a little and he wipes at them with the heels of his hands.

"I-," he swallows. "I know I'm not, like, a superstar."

"You're a great player," Freddie protests immediately.

"I'm okay," Connor clears his throat again and blinks away the tears. "I'm not like...Matts or Mitch. I'm okay but I'm not some kinda superstar, you know? I'm just stubborn and I try really hard and it's okay. I'm okay with that 'cause, like, I still play in the show, you know? I made it."

Freddie is rubbing his hand up and down Connor's back.

"But I had to work really hard," Connor's eyes sting again, "and it sucks sometimes, when Coach and the guys are always talking about the things you can't do? But I had this," he waves his arm a little, "and it was a promise, right, like a promise from the universe that there's this person out there who isn't going to think that I'm too skinny or too slow or that I need to hit the gym? A person who thinks I'm everything they want and who's gonna l-love me just 'cause I'm me? Hockey meant having to work really hard and I was cool with that but a soulmate meant..."

He kinda runs out of words there and Freddie makes a wounded sound. Connor tries to reach out to him instinctively and Freddie just sweeps him up into a huge crushing hug. Connor hiccups and just kinda bursts into tears. He doesn't even get to feel ashamed because Freddie is radiating support and protection and regret and love. He hangs on to Connor as Connor just cries himself hoarse.

Freddie wipes away the tears with a fistful of tissues and Connor can feel the bond settling as Freddie shuffles them both about until they're comfortable. Connor's eyes are heavy again and he tries to apologize. Freddie kisses him lightly and hugs him a little tighter. Connor's still trying to apologize as he falls asleep.

The morning light shining in wakes Connor and he blinks his eyes open slowly. He knows Freddie's awake even before his eyes open. He can feel Freddie's contentment buzzing along his nerve endings but it's not as overwhelming as it was before.

"'s settling," Freddie's stubble catches on Connor's shoulder and he shivers. "Doctor Janet said it would."

"Okay," Connor stretches a little and Freddie's hand slips under his t-shirt as it rides up. They both freeze for a second and then Freddie pulls his hand back. The bond surges again and Connor almost can't breathe from pure _want_.

"No." Freddie is breathing heavily. Connor rocks his hips back and Freddie makes a strangled noise in his throat before he gets hold of Connor's hips.

"No?" Connor's achingly hard and he can feel Freddie's dick against him and-

"No!" Freddie inhales sharply. "Not until the doc clears you."

"What?"

"You're concussed," Freddie says, like he's reminding himself. "No strenuous activity until the doctor says it's safe."

"Freeeeedddie!" Connor whines.

"Doctor," Freddie says into his ear and then he nips Connor. "Then I'm going to take you to bed and I'm not going to let you up until you can't remember anything but my name."

"...I fucking hate you," Connor groans into the pillow and Freddie laughs and pats him on the ass.

Connor has to borrow Freddie's clothes, which has to look ridiculous but there's nothing but heat in Freddie's eyes when Connor comes out of the bathroom mostly dressed in Freddie's stupidly huge clothes. Freddie drove last night apparently so Connor folds himself into the passenger seat and realizes he doesn't have his phone. The morning news lets him know that the guys won the game last night.

"Shit," Connor half-laughs. "I didn't even think about it."

"It's just the preseason," Freddie says dismissively as the hosts discuss Connor's boarding and declare it a filthy hit. They talk about possible suspensions and Connor learns that Naz and Enzo both racked up points in the second with Naz getting what would be the game-winning goal.

"Of course, the real question is what happened to Frederik Andersen," the host says. "He was playing superbly in the second period, saved all eight shots on goal and he didn't look hurt when he came off the ice but the Leafs had Sparks in net and Andersen wasn't even on the bench for the third. No word from the team on why..."

Freddie changes the channel and touches Connor's still-bare mark. "Don't worry about it. I couldn't have stayed in the game."

"I was fine," Connor protests, "-ish."

"You were concussed and going into shock," Freddie corrects him crisply and Connor rolls his eyes. "The only reason you're not in hospital is the bond."

Connor can't really argue with that, even though he does feel absolutely fine right now and they drive along to some Top 40 show for about ten minutes before Connor thinks of something.

"Uh, so, um, we should probably talk about what we're gonna tell the boys?"

Freddie glances at him. "As much as you want."

"No, seriously," Connor waves his still-bare left arm between them. "I'm, like, not subtle about this kind of thing so if you want to be on the down-low-"

"I don't," Freddie interrupts crisply.

"Then-"

"Connor, if it was up to me, I'd take out a two-page spread in the paper and do a coach's corner special," Freddie says like he's talking about where the tape is.

Connor gapes at him. Freddie glances at him then back at traffic.

"I, uh, I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of coverage," Connor admits, "but I'd like to tell the team."

Freddie smiles at him and Connor feels his happiness echo back down the bond. Then a jerk in a van cuts Freddie off and Freddie starts cursing him out in Danish and Connor has to bite his lip to keep from just laughing his ass off.

They're in early enough that only the trainers and Doctor Janet are in their offices. Freddie leaves Connor to get checked over with the promise that he's going to find some breakfast. Doctor Janet runs all the standard tests, stabs him with all the needles and takes about half his blood for various tests.

"Well," she says eventually when Connor's wearing some of his own clothes. "Your concussion doesn't seem to be as severe as we thought it was, your WBC has dropped sharply and you're not running a fever."

"Yay?" Connor fidgets with the hem of his t-shirt. "That's good, right?"

"Oh, yes," Doctor Janet smiles kindly at him. "I think we can say that your RBS is in full remission."

"Awesome," Connor feels like he's talking to his mom a little.

"So, I suppose congratulations are in order?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"You and Freddie, hmm?" Doctor Janet actually winks and Connor wonders if it's possible to just sink through the floor. "That was a surprise."

"Yeah," Connor says feebly.

"Freddie seems to be very much...on board with the bond," Doctor Janet says. Connor decides that's not a question so he doesn't need to answer. "I am surprised he's changed his mind so suddenly."

"Yeah, me too," Connor kicks his heels against the table.

Doctor Janet looks at him and Connor looks at his feet. "You know, we're required to notify the league of any soulbonds. Will you and Freddie be willing to fill out the forms before practice?"

"Yes," Freddie says from the doorway. He comes in with two cups in his hands and a Timmies bag under his arm. Connor takes his coffee gratefully and dares to kiss Freddie on the cheek. Freddie's answering smile makes Connor's insides feel gooey and he takes a too-quick gulp of his coffee.

Freddie stands a little too close, so their arms brush every time Connor breathes in. Doctor Janet talks for a few minutes about the scope of the information that the league will keep and how much of it will be made public (basically nothing, thank you NHLPA) and how it's going to be entered into the medical records.

Connor hopes that Freddie is paying attention because he can't think of anything but Freddie's warmth and the steady thrum of wonder/affection that he can feel across the bond. It's like breathing in, like, candy floss and sparkles and Connor feels like he's drunk on it.

They get handed the forms eventually, all neatly printed gibberish. Connor reads it but he doesn't take in more than a couple of words in the whole thing. He signs beside Freddie's signature and nods along to everything Doctor Janet is saying. Freddie glances over him and Connor grins at the surge of amusement.

Then Doctor Janet leaves and it's just them. Connor feels a little clumsy, like he's too big for his skin and thirteen again. Freddie chuckles and dips his head just enough to press their foreheads together and Connor can't see anything but his eyes.

"Hi," Connor says lamely.

"Hi," Freddie's smiling again. Connor thinks Freddie's smiled more this morning than he has in the week before. "Why shouldn't I smile? I'm happy."

"Kinda breaks the whole goalie mystique," Connor says around his own smile.

Freddie laughs and Connor leans back just a little. Their lips come together easily and they're kissing. Freddie, Connor thinks, is just unfairly good at kissing. Freddie breaks the kiss to laugh and Connor whines in his throat, looping an arm around his neck to pull him back down.

...he's actually not sure how long they spend just kissing in the trainer's room. It doesn't feel like enough time and Freddie nips at his lip. Freddie's phone has been beeping intermittently but this time, Freddie pulls away with a flattering reluctance.

"The boys will be in soon," he says. "Coach is probably in already."

"Fine," Connor sighs. "I should probably find my phone."

"I think it's in the locker room?" Freddie frowns a little.

"Oh my god," Connor pokes at him, "I'm fine. Doctor Janet says I was fine."

"She did," Freddie smiles again. "You weren't listening when she said that."

"Was too!"

"You really weren't," Freddie kisses him quick and light, "but it was hot."

Connor kisses him back and then a thought strikes. He's not sure if it's his thought or Freddie's. "Wait, so I'm cleared?"

Freddie's eyes go dark and Connor's spine goes liquid. "Yup. Cleared for strenuous activity as of about ten minutes ago."

"So..?" Connor can't actually ask if Freddie wants to fuck. He's ninety-nine percent sure but there's that one percent that's just absolute slithering dread that he's fucking it up.

"Sooo," Freddie reels him back in. "Coach'll want us there for skate and I want privacy and comfort for the things I want to do with you."

Connor feels the blood rushing to his cheeks and Freddie's smile turns distinctly predatory.

"You suck," Connor complains.

"Swallow too," Freddie kisses him again and then again and-

"Okay!" Connor pulls back. "Seriously! No more kissing. I'm going now or I'm not gonna go at all."

Freddie grumbles but he lets Connor go.

Connor might actually get a little lost; he keeps missing the necessary turns which is kinda pathetic. His brain is stuck on the way Freddie'd smiled at him and the promise in his eyes. Connor's mostly hoping that he still remembers how sex works. He's been celibate for like two years now.

He finds his phone, which is dead because of course it is. He snags his charger and traipses off to find a powerpoint. He's probably got like a million messages and he should really call his mom. She's probably freaking out.

He has 223 messages and his mom isn't freaking out. Her latest text reads ' _Mr. Dubas said that you'd left your phone behind you and you'd call once you got in. I'll be at work but text me and let me know you're ok._ '

So Connor taps out a quick ' _Im fine. Hit looked worse than it was. Ill call later?_ '

His mom texts him back about five minutes later. ' _ok. Love you!_ '

Connor doesn't even listen to his voice-mails. He's got texts from like, every Otter from Burkie to the new kids coming up. Hyms has sent him like ten messages. Mitch has sent a bunch. Enzo has sent three. The last one reads ' _you are not allowed to be dead._ '

He's even got a couple of messages from Cody who most have been watching the game.

Connor decides against trying to answer all his messages individually, posts a general 'i'm fine. no concussion.' in the team chat. He does write an answer to Cody, telling him he's fine and shouldn't miss time.

His phone buzzes with another message from Zach. ' _where are you?_ '

' _going to the locker room_ ' Connor types back. His phone's charged enough that he thinks it'll last until after the morning skate. He mutes and shoves it in his hoodie pocket. He can feel Freddie, busy and content and it's kinda cool to be able to tell more or less how far away he is.

Connor gets to the locker room and Hyms and Mo are both there, starting to get changed.

"Brownie!" Zach sees him first and crosses over to catch him in a big hug. "Fuck, man. You all right?"

"Couple of stitches," Connor dips his head and lets Zach gently pull back the hair to show the thin line of stitches. "Should be fine."

"Shit," Mo peers at the stitches. "Fucking filthy hit, dude. I thought he'd killed you."

"'s gonna take more than Tom Wilson to kill me," Connor half-smiles. "Doc says I'm good to skate."

"You're taking it easy though," Zach frowns at him, "right?"

"I'll be careful," Connor promises as the door opens and Enzo, Mitch and Naz come in. Connor explains, again and _again_ , that he's fine, it's just a couple of stitches. He lets Naz take a shot of the stitches for insta and lets Enzo fuss over how Connor's skates got put back into his locker.

"So," Mitch is practically hanging off his shoulder, "do you know what's up with Freddie? He, like, totally vanished last night!"

"Freddie?" Connor can't help the slight smile. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Yeah but it's not cool to ditch us like that!"

Connor feels Freddie's arrival a second before the man himself says "You don't need me to beat that lineup."

Mitch twists around to glare at him, or just stare at him; Connor can't really see since Mitch is still hanging off his shoulder. Freddie feels amused and faintly fond across the bond though there's a flicker of annoyance at Mitch that's distinctly 'mine!'-flavored. Connor ducks his head a little at the grin that he can't bite back.

"So, what happened last night?" JT asks in his very serious Alternate Captain voice.

Connor opens his mouth and every single word of the entire English language goes right the fuck out of his head. Freddie nudges Mitch away and reaches out for Connor's left hand with his. Connor curls their fingers together and lets Freddie turn their hands so their soulmarks are showing.

There's a moment of just dead silence, like the whole world is muted. Then everyone starts talking/shouting at once and Connor leans back into Freddie's strong presence and smiles helplessly at them.

Enzo and Mitch try to hug him at the same time and Enzo is shouting "Holy fuck! Congratulations!!" while Mitch is howling "FUCKING A!". JT and Naz are firing off questions and Mo is trying to get in on the hugging game and Sparks has popped up and punches Freddie lightly in the shoulder.

It's chaos until Coach comes in to demand to know why they aren't on the ice. The boys part like the Red Sea and Coach takes in Connor and Freddie's matching soulmarks with one sweeping look.

"Congratulations," he says, "now get your butts in gear, yeah?"

They scatter to their individual lockers, Freddie turning Connor to kiss him right there in front of half the team and Connor gets dressed in a daze. The cold air of the rink clears his head a little and he can focus on the warm-up.

Matts comes spilling out about halfway through the warm-up, saying something about an accident. He must have let Coach know because Coach just sends him to skate around the ice for a few minutes and doesn't say anything else.

Coach sends them all through some agility drills and Connor can just focus on the burn in his muscles and the wheeze of his breath. He doesn't get the chance to get distracted before Hyms and Enzo corner him up against the boards during the shooting drill.

"So," Zach starts, "you and Freddie?"

"Me and Freddie," Connor nods and tries not to hyperventilate. "That going to be a problem?"

Zach blinks at him, then cuffs him (very very lightly) upside the head. "Don't be stupid. If you're happy, I'm happy for you. I'm just super curious."

"Oh?"

"How did you guys find out? Freddie was...uh..."

"Not into soulmates?" Connor smiles and Zach snorts at him. "Yeah, I noticed that."

"You feel it," Enzo chimes in. "First time I shook Cody's hand. It was like static electricity."

"But you guys have known each other for years!" Hyms objects.

Connor rubs his mark against his practice jersey, eyes flicking away to where Freddie is robbing Naz of what should have been a beauty of a goal.

"The doc took my cover off," Connor says, "and he saw it when he came in to see how I was doing."

Freddie looks over at him and something about the way Connor's standing makes him stand up straight. Connor waves away the concern that floods the bond and flashes him a smile.

"I, uh, I don't remember the details," he says, shrugging and Hyms and Enzo look at each other then back at him. "Apparently I had a mild concussion but the bond fixed that?"

"Yeah," Enzo says immediately, "that's one of the coolest parts. You heal faster if your soulmate is close."

The conversation wanders off into talk about the physical effects of a bond and Connor gets to just nod along. Freddie comes over to grab a water bottle and nudges Connor.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Connor isn't sure how well the bond transmits actual thoughts but he tries projecting the dizzy sense of wonder and disbelief that's filling his chest. Freddie smiles with his whole face and leans down to bump their foreheads together. "Just..processing."

Coach blows his whistle and Freddie goes back to the goal.

Connor gets a reprieve because Matts has figured out that something is happening but no-one wants to tell him what; the vets seem to be taking the 'not our place' position and Mitch and the rest of the team are solidly team 'let's screw with Matts' head!'. Matts ends up with Connor on his line for breakaway drills and he's clearly sulking. Like, three-year-old-who-doesn't-wanna-go-to-bed sulking.

Connor bumps their shoulders together and they break past Mo and Gards and Connor sends the puck to Matt's tape and boom, back of the net. Freddie makes a big show of swatting the puck back out and Connor and Enzo laugh as they jostle into a 'celly'. Matts eventually cracks a smile and the rest of practice goes in a typical rush of hockey.

Coach sends them back to the locker room with the news that tomorrow's practice is postponed until the day after. He delivers that news with a twinkle in his eye and a sly glance to where Connor is not-quite leaning into Freddie. The boys whoop and cheer and pour back into the locker room in a tide of blue and white.

Connor hangs back enough that he can hook onto Freddie. Hyms shoots him a knowing smile and Connor can feel his cheeks pink up but he's already sweaty and red and Freddie frees a hand from his glove to touch him.

Thankfully, everyone is more focused on showers and getting changed than chirping them. Connor has the fastest shower he can manage, towels himself off and, after a moment of hesitation, sits down beside Freddie. Freddie is toweling his hair off and Connor pulls out his phone.

"So, uh," Connor gestures with his phone, "I kinda figured, um, I gotta tell my mom, okay? And you sounded like you had plans, right, for tonight?"

Freddie who is a wonderful human being, doesn't even blink. "What do you need?"

"I thought, maybe a photo?" Connor taps his phone against the mark on his arm.

Freddie catches his hand again and turns their arms over. "Like that?"

"I-yeah," Connor fumbles his camera app open and has to take three pictures because his hand is shaking. The good photo shows their arms, their _marks_ and the way their fingers are twined together.  It's a good photo and Connor opens up Whatsapp but before he can type up anything, Mo whistles loudly from the middle of the room. _  
  
_"Listen up, fuckers!" Mo announces. "We are going the fuck out tonight to celebrate the happy couple.  No if's, no bullshit!"  
  
Connor can feel the color rushing to his cheeks and Freddie squeezes his hand.  
  
"What couple-?" Matts starts then he seems to notice where Connor is sitting and his eyes flick straight their clasped hands and marks.  "Seriously?"  
  
"Seriously," Freddie says firmly.  
  
Matts looks at Connor who is wishing he could just hide and he bursts out laughing.  Proper, deep belly laughs.  Everyone is staring at him and Connor can practically hear Mo trying to decide if this is homophobic or just Matts losing his mind.  Freddie doesn't seem worried, all Connor is getting is mild exasperation.  
  
"Auston," JT starts, his own captain instincts kicking in.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," Matts waves his hands around.  "I mean, congratulations and I'm really happy for you guys but-"  
  
And there's more laughing.  The exasperation coming from Freddie starts taking on a hint of embarrassment.  
  
"So where are we going for drinks, then?" Gards calls and an intense debate breaks out between the long-time Toronto natives.  
  
Connor leans into Freddie, still aware that his cheeks are burning and he's smiling like a goof but he's okay with that.  Freddie is still radiating embarrassment and Connor's going to ask about it.  Not in a locker room full of the worst gossips in the league, but he's gonna ask.  
  
"Cool if I send my mom that pic?" he asks instead.  
  
"Yes," Freddie says.  Then, "actually..."  
  
"What?" Freddie's digging out his own phone and then he takes Connor's too.  
  
Freddie has finished adding a new contact to Connor's phone with a lot of numbers and is busily tapping away.  When he hands it back, there's a new Whatsapp group that includes him, his mom, Freddie and the mystery number.  Freddie's shared the picture with the group.  
  
Connor hastily adds a ' _Its new!_ ' and he gets just enough time to pull on his street clothes before his phone starts going bonkers. Freddie nudges him towards his shoes. "I got it."

Connor's phone keeps buzzing away in his pocket as Connor pulls on his shoes and ties his laces. Freddie stays right by him, tapping away on his phone until Connor's ready to go. Freddie hooks an arm around his neck and tows him along behind the rest of the team while still texting steadily.

"We might have to go to your mom's for dinner on Sunday," Freddie says as they go through the door to the car park and one of the trainers comes running up with a CVS bag for Freddie, "and my mom wants us to Skype on Sunday."

"Um," Connor's never met Freddie's mom. Freddie has met Connor's mom and dad like a dozen times and they think he's a 'really nice young man'. Connor's not sure how he's going to impress his kinda mother-in-law over Skype but hey, meeting her while they're two thousand miles apart sounds pretty good. Connor can just be a flailing mess of a human once the camera switches off.

"She already adores you," Freddie says, pulling him a little closer. "She wants me to marry you before you figure out that I have a temper."

Connor giggles at that and Freddie smiles down at him.

"She's probably more nervous than you are," he says as he unlocks his car.

"That's sweet of you to say," Connor climbs into the passenger seat, "but she's really, really not."

He takes his phone out and plugs it into the charger before taking a deep breath and opening the chat again. He has to read a lot of messages; his mom is super-excited and has apparently handled the whole 'telling Connor's entire family' part and she's already talking about what would Freddie like for dinner? Freddie's mom has done a lot of writing in Danish which looks completely different when it's written down. Freddie's only actually added about three texts, two of them in Danish and probably addressed to his mom.

"Oh, hey," Connor says when they pull out of the arena. "Do we need to go by my place?"

Freddie glances at him as he pulls into traffic and Connor looks down at his phone. "Do we need to?"

"Well, I probably need a change of clothes," Connor gestures at his extremely rumpled clothes, "and, like, my toothbrush?"

Freddie's look is lingering this time. "Maybe the toothbrush, but I think I prefer you without clothes."

"How are you not embarrassed saying that stuff?" Connor whines, scooting a little lower in the seat and blushing like mad.

"It's all true," Freddie says like he's being all reasonable, "and I'm taking my hot soulmate home for the first time. I think I'm allowed to brag."

Connor can't think of anything to say to that and Freddie's fondness takes on a smug overtone. Connor scoots a little lower in the seat and pulls his phone out again. He unlocks it and immediately regrets it. He skims the moms' chat and then locks his phone again and drops it back onto the console.

"I think our moms are plotting together," he tells Freddie and they share a horrified look. "I mean I don't think we can stop it but..."

Freddie pulls through an amber light and the subject just peters out. Freddie does swing by Connor's apartment and Connor fills a bag with some underwear, a couple of t-shirts and his toothbrush and hair stuff. He comes back out of his bathroom to find Freddie standing in his hallway rummaging through the CVS bag.

"Whatcha got there?"

Freddie glances at him and tips the bag so Connor can see inside. It's full of lube. Actually, literally full of bottles and bottles of lube. It's like someone just emptied an entire shelf of lube into the bag. The bag that Freddie got from one of the training staff...who Connor is now never, ever, _ever_ going to be able to look in the face ever again.

"Oh my god!"

Freddie, who is looking totally chill, half-shrugs. "I figured asking you what your favorite brand of lube was in the middle of the locker room was a bad idea."

Connor can actually picture how that would have turned out. He would have ended up in LA, just to get away from the chirping.

"You hate beaches and you burn if you look outside in the summer." Freddie kisses him gently. "It's fine. I'll leave it in the car while we're at dinner."

"...you are so lucky you're like stupidly hot," Connor complains and Freddie's smile is almost ...surprised. "C'mon, man, this can't be a surprise."

"It's nice to be reminded," Freddie says and kisses him deeper. Connor catches hold of his hoodie and...

Freddie's phone goes. The Auston Matthews rap and Connor can't help laughing at the bewildered fury on Freddie's face. "Left your phone unlocked around Marns, huh?"

Freddie glares at him and Connor presses his forehead into Freddie's shoulder to muffle his laughter. He doesn't actually hear what Freddie says, just the rumble of his voice and the exasperation that floods the bond. Connor's content just to lean into Freddie and soak in the closeness.

"Fine, we'll be there in ten minutes," Freddie thumbs his phone off and shoves it in a pocket. "We're going for pizza apparently."

Connor hums and peels himself off Freddie reluctantly. Freddie catches his free hand and they walk down to the car park hand in hand. Freddie does put the CVS bag in the backseat, under Connor's bag.

They're the last ones to arrive, which isn't surprising. The pizza place is used to the team showing up and they're cool about giving them privacy and keeping fans from bugging them. Somebody, Connor's money is on Zach, has booked the private room, so they get a cheer when they show up.

It's loud and rowdy and Connor loses track of Freddie pretty quick. Mitch is full of questions, Enzo is smiling at him and some of the new guys are hovering in a way that suggests they'd really like someone to explain. Mango, Connor knows, so he tips his arm just enough to show a flash of bare skin and gets a nod.

The meal gets rowdy but it's the good rowdy, where everyone's smiling. Naz slaps him on the back and congratulates him. JT shakes his hand and tells him that he hopes he and Freddie will be really happy together. Hainsey buys him a beer and tells him "Never go to bed angry, remember the small things and for the love of fuck, _talk to each other_."

Mitch is almost giddy when he bounces up with Matts in tow. "You're a dick for not telling me but I'm happy for you."

"I'm so sorry my concussion delayed me telling you for all of like half a day," Connor deadpans right back.

"Seriously, you're happy?" Mitch goes serious.

"Very," Connor says and Mitch hugs him again.

Matts waits for Mitch to step back before he says anything. He does the awkward bro-hug thing and says "I wasn't kidding - I really am happy for you. I don't want you to think, like, that I'm-"

"I get it," Connor assures him, "but you're going to have to tell me what actually was that funny."

Matts smirks at him. "Short version? Freddie has been thirsty as fuck for like two years."

Connor's pretty sure he's blushing and he reaches out across the bond instinctively. He gets a sense Freddie's amused and he looks over to where Enzo and Hyms are talking to him. Freddie flicks a glance at him and smiles.

Matts winks at him as he makes his excuses and goes over to Freddie. Freddie immediately slings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in. Hyms smiles at them both and Enzo claps his hands.

"We totally have to do a double date," he declares. "You and Connor and me and Cody!"

"Sounds good," Freddie says easily.

Hyms taps Connor on the shoulder. "Happy for you, man."

"Thanks," Connor leans into Freddie and the arm around his neck tightens for a second. Hyms grins at them both and goes to see if there's any pizza left. Enzo hangs around for a few more minutes and then he goes off to talk to someone else.

Freddie dips his head to whisper in Connor's ear. "Ready to get out of here?"

Connor shivers and nods. "Definitely."

They say their goodbyes as fast as possible, Freddie never once letting go of Connor and Freddie gets them out the door in less than three minutes. Connor can't even be mad. He's achingly aware of just how big and solid Freddie is and the want that's starting to itch under his skin. Freddie tugs him over to his car by the hand and Connor threads their fingers together until they have to actually get in the car.

He means to say something, make small talk, but he looks at Freddie and kinda...stalls out. He's always thought Freddie was hot but he's also always been aware that Freddie is a teammate and his totally-not-interested soulmate so he's always tried not to fantasize; he's not that pathetic. But now Freddie's actually his soulmate and they're totally going to have sex and Connor looks at him and just thinks 'wow'.

Freddie's fucking gorgeous.

Connor can't look away and his subconscious has apparently been saving up _all_ the fantasies for him. He honestly doesn't notice how much is spilling over into the bond until Freddie brakes a little harder than necessary at a red light. The look he throws Connor is _scorching_.

"Now you're just being a tease," Freddie says roughly.

"Not a tease," Connor says, "I'm totally going to follow through."

Freddie says something harsh and heated in Danish and throws the car in gear. He pulls into his apartment building in a squeal of tires and hustles them both towards the elevator.

"Uh," Connor waves at the car. "Do you wanna grab the stuff?"

Freddie swears, grabs the bag and all but drags Connor into the elevator. The ride might be the longest ride in human history. There are people waiting on every floor and Connor has to keep his hands tucked in his hoodie pocket. Freddie edges him back into the corner and looms like he's just snapped the puck away from a breakaway forward. They get the elevator to themselves for the last floor and Connor can barely resist the need to touch Freddie.

Freddie almost pushes him down the corridor and Connor's trying not to trip over his own feet. Then the door's opening and they're inside. Freddie slams him back into the door, kissing him deeply and Connor gets a hand fisted in Freddie's coat to keep the world in place. There isn't even space for air between them and Connor's drowning in the feedback from the bond.

He's boiling inside his skin and fumbles to get his hands past Freddie's coat, past his shirt to the skin underneath. Freddie bites his lip when he actually gets his hands on him. Freddie's lean, all solid pre-season muscle and his skin heats under Connor's fingers. Connor pulls clumsily at the buttons on his shirt and his pants, not willing to break the kiss.

Freddie pulls back, barely far enough to pull Connor's hoodie and t-shirt up and off in one big sweep. Connor whines and scrabbles to get hold of Freddie's fucking buttons again. They're panting into the tiny space between their mouths and Freddie knocks him back against the door again when he kisses him.

The wood is cool against his skin. Connor arches away instinctively but Freddie's just a wall and Connor makes a desperate noise in his throat. Freddie pulls back and Connor gulps for air.

"Can-can I-? I wanna-" He can't get enough air into his lungs to form a complete sentence.

" _Ja_ ," Freddie shakes his head, "yes, yes, anything-"

Connor rips at the buttons on Freddie's pants and they give, _fucking finally_. He leans up enough to catch Freddie's lips for another aching second before letting his knees fold under him.

It's crowded and awkward but Connor is totally focused on Freddie's dick, still half-caught in his boxers. He gets his hand around it, pulls Freddie's pants and boxers down as carefully as he can manage with his heart racing. A thick guttural sound tears out of Freddie's throat and Connor has to let go for a second to press the heel of his hand into his own dick.

The air is hot and crowded with panting breath. Connor braces a hand against Freddie's hip and leans in. Freddie burns against his tongue and he feels the breath skip in both their lungs. The bond is humming between them. Connor can't even try for finesse, just opens his mouth and lets Freddie slide deep.

A muffled curse over him and Freddie collapses forward, catching himself with his forearm against the door. Connor sucks lightly and Freddie's free hand drops to paw unsteadily at his head and tangle in his hair. It gets lost in the push and pull: the way Connor's jaw stretches: the heat and weight of Freddie on his tongue: the salt bitter taste of it: the burn as his throat opens when Freddie rocks forward.

It all rushes together and Freddie's coming.

Connor swallows, messy and needy as Freddie's climax lights up his brain. Freddie groans and his dick slips out of Connor's mouth. Connor swallows, feels the burn in his throat, the air cold against his lips and Freddie hooks him up with an arm under his. Freddie's chest is heaving but he kisses Connor between panting breaths.

Connor can't focus. He's so hard that it _hurts_. He can't catch his breath. He can't do more than keen helplessly against Freddie's mouth.

"I have you, _kære_ " Freddie runs his hand down along Connor's chest and yanks at his pants.

There's a rip and then Freddie's hand closes around his dick. Connor's whole body locks up and he chokes on his own needy cry. Freddie kisses him hard enough that they bang into the door and Connor's world whites out.

For a second, the world just dissolves and then he falls back into his body as his knees buckle. Freddie's nails snag on his skin as he grabs for him. Connor gets half-caught, half-squashed against the door and a hiccup of laughter breaks free. He must look ridiculous.

Freddie snorts. He's breathing as hard as Connor is but he fills the bond with images of how Connor looks and the sizzling feeling of heat makes Connor shiver. He manages to get his feet under him so he's at least standing. Freddie's arm slips on the sweat-slick skin and settles in the curve of his back.

Freddie wipes his hand on his pants and Connor lets his head fall onto Freddie's shoulder. They're still half-dressed, still just inside the door and Connor loops an arm around Freddie's neck and tugs him down to kiss him again.

Freddie kisses him deliberately this time. It's like he's trying to memorize Connor's mouth with his tongue. Connor's happy to just hang on for the ride as his heart slows and he's lazy with satisfaction.

The bond is like a warm blanket and slowly, his feelings separate from Freddie's. He can still feel everything but it's easier to tell what's coming from Freddie. Freddie is just radiating a steady wave of happiness and satisfaction. It brings a smile to Connor's face and he ducks away from the kiss to hide his face against Freddie's neck.

Freddie makes a grumbly sound and leans down to kiss him again. Connor feels Freddie's attention like a feathery touch along the bond. He makes the effort not to pull away, trying not to hide and is rewarded with a rush of pride and something deeper. Connor shies away from that and reaches up to pull him down again.

He's not expecting it when he tugs a little at Freddie's hair and Freddie gasps a little. He doesn't expect the way heat licks down his spine and his dick stirs. Freddie breaks the kiss and rubs his thumb over Connor's lips.

"We didn't even use any of the lube," Connor says inanely.

Freddie's smile sharpens and he bends to snag the bag, then hooks his arm under Connor's knees, sweeping him up bridal style. Connor yelps and grabs for Freddie's shoulders. Freddie smiles at him when he sputters.

"That should not be as hot as it is," Connor says a little lamely.

"And yet..." Freddie nips at his lip, "and we just haven't used the lube yet. Want to fix that?"

"You have to ask?" Connor hears the bag rustle as Freddie adjust his grip and Connor's mind jumps to all the things Freddie could do with all that strength. Freddie's grip tightens and he turns them away from the door and down the hall to his bedroom.


End file.
